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W ell, Lisles' Kid, mebbe ’tis one o’ dem dreams. Gee ! 


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TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

AND HOW THE WHITE 
ROSE OF LOVE BLOOMED 
AND FLOURISHED 
THERE 

BY 

WINIFRED RICH 

The strength of the strong is Love, 

The righting of wrong is Love; 

The good that We give is Love, 

The Life that we live is Love. 

Jlgness Greene Foster. 


PAUL ELDER GT COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS • • • SAN FRANCISCO 


Copyrighl, 1911 
by Paul Elder and Company 
San Francisco 



©CI.A297142 

/,/ 


TO 

MY FRIEND 
ELLEN FEARN CRANE 

SUNDAY 
SEPTEMBER 13 
1908 































Can a lad of ten grow up in one of our modern cities and be 
ignorant of the meaning of the word “ love** ? 

In my own kindergarten the majority of little ones had not the 
word in their vocabulary, and these children were many degrees 
removed from the tenement class. In our California playgrounds 
the word is seldom used among the children. Ask the simple 
que^ion, “Do you love si^er or mother?** and the answer is 
a blank ^are. Use the word “like** and a ready “Sure** is the 
response. 

But in the tenements of our cities this problem is not one to 
cause wonder. A brief word-pidture will be sufficient for the 
reader more readily to understand Tony*s ignorance as well as 
I the attitude of Maggie and Mrs. Murphy. The average tenements 
! are in a locality densely populated and badly congested. The 
I types of faces one meets in the many alleys represent the various 
! Stages of Starvation and spent energies. The women seem to 
j have lost all hold on their womanhood, and the little ones are 
I prematurely old in experience and vice. 

I We will go into a home. It is a basement room, damp, dark 
[ and foul. A family of seven or more occupy this shelter. The 
; children are unkempt and pitifully hungry ; the father is in the 
! penitentiary, and the mother in the fadtory. Imagine the weary, 

[v] 


INTRODUCTION 

work-gunned mother coming home to feed her brood at night, 
after twelve hours of ^eady labor and only sixty cents to show 
for her toil. Is it possible for her to give any expression to her 
mother-love, if any there may be ? Can you conceive of love on 
the lips of this family? 

We can go into a better home. It may be on the fir^ or top 
floor of a tenement, according to the wages of the parents. Here 
we find in two rooms a family of ten. The father, a foreigner, 
has come to America to obtain wealth. He may receive a dollar 
a day, it may be more, but at the merciless expense of his man- 
hood ; for as the mills of men grind out the progress of the world, 
they also grind away the divinity and humanity of a man’s being. 
He is a mere cog in a wheel. Once his ideals are gone, drink 
becomes his refuge, and the man, who ten or fifteen years ago 
Pepped hopefully upon America’s soil, now becomes a brain- 
gunned, labor-worn, drunken bea^. The mother goes into the 
fa(5tory and for twelve hours is deprived of her privileges as a 
mother in order that she also may become a cog in the wheel 
that grinds out the hopes of the human race. The little ones in- 
crease and they in turn go out upon the ^reet, all for the dollar 
and the lu^ of gain. Can a boy or girl breathe in love from the 
Greets? Can the over-worked, intoxicated father exemplify the 
father-love? Can the mother, broken and crushed, find time at 
night to caress her children? Ju^ picture a home-coming from 
these parents and ask where the word “love” would find its place. 

It is difficult for us, shielded as we are by environment, to 
underhand this problem ; but when we take into consideration 
that a child gains his knowledge of love from the home and 
from the parents, we can readily comprehend the situation. 


CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

INTRODUCTION vii 

I. THE STORY 1 

II. “WOT IS LOVE?” 15 

III. THE WHITE ROSE 26 

IV. THE SERMON OF THE ROSE .... 36 

V. “DELFLES’KID” 45 

VI. A BROTHER 48 

VII. MR. DORRING’S MESSAGE 57 

VIII. THE FIRE 60 

IX. THE FULL WHITE ROOM 66 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facms 

“Well, Li’les* Kid, mebbe’tis one o* dem dreams. Gee!” Title 


From the open windows came the busy chatter of the chil- 
dren, and a soft low voice 2 

“Do you like your little si^er?” “Betcher life 1 do,” was 

the prompt response 18 

Silently, one by one, they ^ared at the white blossom . . 34 
“An’ she wrote dis, too. L-o-v-e, dat’s love. God is love. 

Dat ’s wot He is, see ? ” 40 

Pointing to the pidture, he whispered ; “ Say, yer jes looks 

like Her — an’ de Li’les’ Kid like Him ” 46 

Danny Mulligan, with true epicurean joy, was endeavoring 
to lick a liberal supply of molasses from his freckled 

face by means of a very nimble tongue 48 

The teacher’s face was wet with tears as she placed the 

baby in Tony’s arms 58 

Gently he dropped the baby into the barrel and was gone 62 
In her out^retched hand she held — a white rose ... 68 

[vii] 




Chapter I 

THE STORY 

T ony ^ood on the pavement faring at a sign 
which hung across the sidewalk from a doorway 
of the brick building. That the word thereon 
^ood for “Kindergarten” he well knew, though 
to him the letters were as meaningless as Greek. 
In the bitterness of his heart he had wandered far from his 
usual haunts. To him the world was but a dreary court, 
where every man lived a law unto himself and for himself. 

From the open windows came the busy chatter of the 
children, and a soft, low voice, which caused the small 
Keener to open his eyes very wide indeed. 

The curtains blew apart, giving him a glimpse of a tall 
figure bending over a wee brown head. 

Tony glanced furtively up and down the narrow ^reet. 
No one was in sight ; even Mike Casey’s saloon was minus 
the usual hangers-on. 

Through the open gate at one side of the building he 

[ 1 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM | 

perceived a narrow alley. Into this, with the caution of the ! 
^reet gamin, he ^ole, and as healthily closed the gate be- j 
hind him. As he had anticipated, the open window was | 
ju^ low enough to be reached by the aid of a box. j 

“ Gee ! ” he excitedly whispered, “ dat ’s de dope, sure.” | 

Silently down the board walk he flew till he reached the j 
playground. There he paused for a breathless moment to 
^are uncomprehendingly at the swings and sand-boxes, j 
His re^less eyes discovered a small box in a corner. This , 
he seized and bore to the window. i 

Balancing himself on his bare toes and holding tightly 
to the window-ledge, he could gain, by landing upon this 
rather insecure pedestal, a very good view of the room and 
what he craved even more — the teacher who spoke with 
the soft voice. 

The child’s eyes grew round as he ^ared incredulously 
at the immaculate scene before him. 

Wonderful picftures hung upon the white walls; flowers 
and delicate ferns grew in profusion in the windows; 
everything was spotless, and the room breathed re^ and 
happiness. 

“ Gee ! ” exclaimed the awestruck watcher. 

His eyes fell upon the circle of little ones, some of whom, 
though they were far above him in the social world, he 
knew. 

There were Elsa and Otto Gruenberger ; they represented 

[ 2 ] 



From the open windows came the busy chatter of the 
children, and a soft, low voice. 



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3 




THE STORY 

the greater ari^ocracy possible. For did not their father 
own a delicatessen shop where one could buy deled:able 
dainties such as bologna, sauerkraut, and buns with raisins 
in them? 

Even Danny Mulligan was there. His father owned the 
honored di^indtion of being policeman on a wonderful 
beat where ladies lived in palaces, and the children ate 
pie and candy-^icks three times a day. 

Tony smiled absently at Danny, whose kindness in per- 
mitting him to stroke his father’s official club had been an 
honor not soon to be forgotten. 

However, in another moment all these glories vanished, 
for he had caught a glimpse of the teacher as she sat in 
the circle with the children. Her voice, which had at- 
tradted Tony from the firdt, now held him spellbound. 

“Well, children, how many bright faces I see to-day! 
And are we ready for the dtory?” 

At once a di^indt hum and an air of eager expedtancy 
pervaded the room. Tony caught the infedlion and leaned 
eagerly forward, to the peril of his position. 

“ Then, we mudt sit very dtill and li^en very carefully. 
Otto, your feet would look better on the floor. Yes, that 
is better. I wonder if Lizzette could keep her hands from 
Anna’s hair ribbon. Are we ready? For this is another 
dtory with a hidden meaning.” 

Tony hung tightly to the window-ledge, his eyes riveted 

[ 3 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 


upon the teacher, every nerve drained so as not to lose a 
single word of what was to follow. 

The musical voice went on : 

“ Once upon a time there lived a little child who had in 
his care and keeping a wonderful white room. 

“ This little room was the home of a beautiful spirit who 
grew only under the sunshine of good thoughts and deeds. 
So, of course, it was necessary that the windows and doors 
of the little room should be always wide open for the 
sunlight to ^ream in. 

“But, somehow, this little child did not know how to 
care for his little white room or the beautiful spirit, for he 
lived in a dirty alley where not one ray of God’s sunlight 
ever shone. He knew nothing whatever of loving thoughts 
or of good deeds. So, as the windows and doors were 
ever closed, the little white room grew darker and darker, 
and the spirit drooped, ju^ like the pretty flower Elsa for- 
got to put in water ye^erday. And the ^range^ thing of 
all was, that the child’s face showed ju^ how the spirit 
felt. He was never happy; his eyes were never glad; his 
lips never smiled, but drooped at the corners like the 
points of a crescent moon hung upside down in the sky. 

“One day he thought he would go out beyond the 
dirty alley to see what he could find. And what do you 
think he saw? 

“A garden! A wonderful garden full of flowers and 



THE STORY 


laughing children ; even grown-ups were there, and every 
one seemed so happy ! They gathered the flowers, and no 
sooner were they picked than new ones grew on the 
bushes. 

“The little child wonderingly watched them, and so 
rapt was he that he did not know that a beautiful angel 
was landing near him till he heard a whisper in his ear : 

“ ‘ Come, little child, come with me.’ Soon he found him- 
self landing beside a bush of soft white roses, the fra- 
grance of which filled the entire garden. 

“ * Pick one,’ whispered the angel, ‘ and place it in the little 
white room. They are Roses of Love and will never fade.’ 

“The child had never seen roses, had never heard of 
love. But he knew of the hurt spirit in the dark little 
room. So he obeyed the angel. 

“No sooner had he picked the rose than what do you 
think happened to the little room? 

“ The windows and doors flew open. The little, droop- 
ing spirit caught the fragrance of the white rose, awoke 
and began to sing. Then the child looked up at the 
angel’s face and smiled — yes, smiled. 

“You see, the Rose of Love had filled the little white 
room, and had made the spirit so glad I 

“‘Now, go home,’ whispered the angel, ‘and show your 
rose to those who have never seen nor heard of love. 
Go, — open other little darkened rooms.’ 



TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

** So the child left the beautiful garden, but he carried 
the White Rose of Love close to his heart, for that was 
his little white room.” , 

A solemn hush fell upon the youthful group. 

Outside, Tony was thinking deeply; he was also won- 
dering a great deal. The teacher’s white hands, her face 
and her voice were new types to him. No one in the Row 
or in the tenement ever smiled with her eyes as did this 
girl-woman who ^ood before the circle holding out her 
arms to them all. 

“ O babies ! ” she cried. “ My little ones, I do want you 
to know more of this beautiful, wonderful love. Do you 
know, dearies, it will change your little lives and make 
you — oh, so happy ! ” 

Eagerly and heedlessly Tony leaned forward — a crash, 
a thud! Scrambling to his feet, Tony flung open the gate 
and fled with all possible speed, not topping until he 
reached the tenement in the Row. 

He sank down on the fir^ door^ep to re^ and inci- 
dentally to think over all he had seen and heard. 

“ Gee 1 ” He looked dazed and bewildered. ** D’ yer t’ink 
it’s ’nother dem dreams? Thet room an’ dem purty pic- 
ters — an’ her! Gee! I hadn’t orter butt inter her yarn. 
Say, dat wuz bad, fer sure ! ” 

He rose sorrowfully and thru^ both grimy hands down 
deep into his pockets. 


[ 6 ] 


THE STORY 

“Say, dat’s de dope ’bout de room all right, but ain’t 
never heerd of love any; wusht I knowed if it is ter — eat.” 

He walked thoughtfully into the tumbled-down building 
[ and through a labyrinth of halls and fairways, pa^ dirty 
i babies, quarreling children, and slatternly women. 

Before a door at the end of the hall he paused to li^en. 
Hearing no sound, he entered the room and closed the 
door gently behind him. 

Owing to the coat of dirt and cobwebs upon the narrow 
window, the light was dim. Tony’s sharp eyes glanced 
anxiously toward a tiny bundle lying on one of the broken 
beds. All was quiet. 

He sat down on one of the boxes lying on the floor, his 
head bowed in his hands, and systematically began to 
, meditate over his morning’s adventure. 

The bundle birred, and a feeble wail filled the room. 
: In^antly Tony gathered in his thin arms a young infant 
who reached up two dirty little hands to clutch his coat. 

“Gee, Li’les’ Kid, youse de gamest feller I ever see — 
sleepin’ all de time Tony wuz out wid de swells. Say, 
c Li’les’ Kid, jes open yer eyes. I’se got de yarn fer you! 
;Say — why — yer smiles jes de way she looks — ef yer 
. don’t!” 

He ^raightened the single garment and cuddled the 
1 little one to him. 

“Well, Li’les’ Kid, mebbe ’tis one o’ dem dreams. Gee! 

[ 7 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

D’y’u know, ’t ain’t nothin’ like I see before. She looks like j 
you feel, sof’ an’ nice.” | 

His eyes fell upon the filth and barrenness of the pov- 
erty-^ricken room, which he saw for the fir^ time. But r 
Tony was somewhat of a philosopher, so merely shrugged 
his bent shoulders vaguely. 

“Aw, wot’s de use! Say, Li’les’ Kid, de lady wot Tony 
tells yer ’bout is er bang up one. Never growed in er 
tenerment, yer bet! She sed us a yarn ’bout er feller an’ 
his white room wot wuz alius shut. Say, didjer know yer 
hed er white room an’ er spurrit? Dat’s a burrd, Li’les’ 
Kid. Seen one ondt. Well, dis yere kid got inter er yard 
an’ picked some roses, — roses of love she called ’em — an’ 
dey bu^ed de room open. Gee ! Ain’t never seen nothin’ 
full ’nough ter bu^ open here.” 

He looked down into the blue eyes of the babe wistfully. 

“Say, Li’les’ Kid, ’tis love, an’ Tony don’t know wot 
love is, — wusht I did.” i 

The babe whimpered. 

“ Hungry, Li’les’ Kid ? Seems ter me youse alius hungry. 
Why, me an’ de kids don’ eat ha’f yer do. Youse got de 
tank, fer sure. Never min’, yer goin’ ter hev love — ef it’s 
ter eat — Li’les’ Kid. Nothin’s too good fer dis girl baby, 
sure.” 

All the while he was talking, Tony had been busy. 
From an old cigar-box, which he drew from under the 

[ 8 ] 


THE STORY 

bed, he produced a cup of milk and a cru^ of bread. 
These he fed to the famished baby. 

His face was full of perplexity as he pondered over the 
possible meaning of the new word. 

Suddenly he sprang to his feet crying joyfully: 

“Why, Murphy’ll know! She’s got all kinds of dope. 
An*, gee, Li’les’ Kid, youse kin hev yer li’le white room 
full, jes t’ink, full an’ bu^in’l” 

Hugging the wondering child closely to him, Tony hur- 
ried out into the halls, down the fairway to Mrs. Murphy’s 
room. 

He found that worthy lady singing lu^ily over the wash- 
tubs. Pouring from the adjoining room, an avalanche of 
small Murphys dressed in the briefest of costumes, over- 
powered him, screaming shrilly “fer ter see the Li’les’ Kid! ” 

“ Whisht, now, ye spalpeens ! Ter bed wid yez, an* think 
shame, an’ none on yez havin’ ez much ez er ^itch on yer 
backs. Git now.” 

One by one the youthful band of defeated Celts re- 
treated to the citadel of the family bed. 

Mrs. Murphy gathered the remainder of the garments 
lying about and threw them into the tubs. This done, she 
sat down and, after wiping her red face on her apron, 
took the babe from Tony’s arms. 

“ Arrah noo, Tony, lad, ’tis a dirty gurrl yez do be after 
havin’.” 


[ 9 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

She critically surveyed the infant, while Tony, an absent 
expression on his face, looked on. He was far away in the 
Kindergarten room, the words, “roses of love, of love,” 
flitting through his brain like the refrain of a sweet song. 

He looked sadly at the child. 

“Dey’s all de clothes she’s got, Murphy.” 

“An* ’tis no more my kids hev, Tony. ’T is ter Murphy 
yez’ll bring her to-morrow, lad, an’ ’t is me who will wash 
de clothes. Aye, an’ ’t is a scrubbin’ de babe will be after 
a-havin’, sure.” 

The boy looked at the kindly Irishwoman, then, coming 
closely to her, he earne^ly asked : 

“ Murphy, wot *s love ? ” 

In her a^onishment Mrs. Murphy almo^ dropped the 
babe, but after a withering glance of scorn she rose and 
bundled the little one into Tony’s arms. 

“De divil fly awa’ wid yez an’ yer fool questions! Wot 
does a bye be after a-askin’ fer love fer? Sure, cin’ ’tis not 
in er tiniment yez finds it, Oi’ll be a-thinkin’ 1 ” 

She bent over the tubs once more. 

“But, Murphy,” Tony persi^ed, “ez it er flower or 
somepin’ ter eat — er — wot is it?” 

“Ter eat, yez ask? An’ ’tis an empty ^omick yez’ll be 
a-havin’ ef yez live on love. *T is not a fillin’ kin’ o’ food.” 

T ony gasped — not filling ! “ But — ” 

“See here, Tony, yez air a bit daft; all folks is, wot be 

[ 10 ] 


THE STORY 

after a-thinkin’ o’ sech fool talk. Love? Pooh! ’Tis wot I 
married Pat fer, an’ not a whiff av it Oi’ve seen sence. Git 
along wid yez, an’ min* — let love be, an’ tek care o’ yer kid.” 

Very slowly, Tony went back through the dingy halls. 

“Murphy don’ know ever’t’ing,” he muttered stubbornly, 
i “She’s not hed any, dat’s wot. Dem roses an’ flowers were 
pid:ers, pidters o’ love, same ez de white room an’ de heart.” 

In the doorway, dressed in a dirty, flowing kimono, stood 
; a young girl whose pretty face was almo^ hidden by a 
I huge dilapidated pompadour hanging over one eye. 

' “Say, Maggie,” Tony called, “does yer know wot love 
! is? Gee ! Wot’s de matter? Sick?” For the girl had turned 
very white, and covering her face with her kimono she 
fled within the room. 

“Gee, de bunch is crazy. Say, Li’les’ Kid, I’ll bet dey’s 
all hed some love, but not de kin’ she sed. Nope. Jes bet 
dey’s hed some udder kin’ o’ love dope, an’ dey’s got sick. 
Yer did ondt on er banana, ’member, Li’les’ Kid? Now, 
I de teacher’s kin’ iz de real t’ing, yer bet ’tis, — de real t’ing, 
fer sure.” 

Within the room again, seated upon the old rocker, 
Tony ruminated at length. 

“Jes de way she looked showed she wuz no bogus. She 
hed er smile dat made yer feel like de sun after er rain. 
She sed, Li’les’ Kid, d’yer hear?” The baby was fadt 
asleep, her head in the hollow of Tony’s arm. 

[II] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

“ Never min’, yer kin sleep, an’ I kin talk jes de same. 
She sed de yarn wuz all pic5lers. I know roses. Seen ’em 
ondt on a bang-up swell where I sells de papers. Love ez 
purty — like de roses, dat’s sure.” 

Thoughtfully he watched the breathing of the infant, 
noted the blue circles under the long lashes, and the thin, 
little wrinkled cheeks. 

“ Say, yer er goin’ ter be red an’ fat, mebbe, when dis 
love bizness ez begun.” 

From the hallway came the sound of a scuffle. Instantly 
gathering the baby to him, Tony rose and, with an expres- 
sion of intense bitterness on his face, retreated to the 
corner of the room. 

The door bur^ open and two little boys noisily entered. 

His anxious look vanished, an expression of good-na- 
tured annoyance taking its place. 

“ Shet up, youse, ye’ll wake de kid.” 

“Got anyt’ing ter eat?” hungrily demanded the older 
boy, looking sharply about the empty room. 

“ Nope, yer come ter de wrong shop.” 

“ She’s hed some.” The boy glanced suspiciously at the 
babe in Tony’s arms. 

Both young^ers were as unlike Tony in their features 
and in their manners as three boys could possibly be. 

“Sure,” Tony grinned cheerfully. 

“ Aw, yer alius give her de grub.” 

[ 12 ] 


THE STORY 

The wolfish glare which accompanied the boy’s remark 
was shared by the younger one, who, having been on an 
exploring expedition and having overturned every dish, 
box, and even the bed in his search, now joined his brother 
in defiantly facing Tony. 

“We’re hungry.” It was the daily cry. Tony sighed. 

“Same here. See here, kids, you’d better go an’ hunt fer 
grub. She — ain’t been here ter-day. Mebbe she — won’t 
come ter-night. I’ll fin’ de grub fer yer after I sells de papers, 

! see ? Ain’t hed nothin’ myself,” he added in an underbreath. 

“ Say, I tells yer, go out an’ t’ink yer full ; it makes you 
feel better.” 

The two little boys looked at each other inquiringly. 
Tony softly soothed the fretful child. 

“ Say, kids, it ain’t no use ’n kickin’, so hike.” 

I They grumbled somewhat, but after a more vigorous 
search Parted for the door, Tony watching them curiously. 

“Say,” he called out, “did yer ever heer of love?” 

They shook their heads; the younger asked greedily: 

“ Anyt’ing ter eat ? ” 

“ Dunno ; it ’s a queer dope. Say, ef you kids fin’ out 
wot it is I’ll give yer some pennies. Are yer game?” 

One boy was busily fa^ening his trousers to his wai^ 
by a string. The other, furtively watching Tony’s face, 
suspiciously asked : 

“Who tells yer ’bout it?” 

[ 13 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

** Aw, a swell told me.” Tony’s tones were non-committal. 
“ Ax him, an’ he’ll give yei* some.” 

“Dat’s so.” Tony looked out of the dingy window. 
“You’se kin cut now, an’ go sof, de kid’s er sleep.” 

Once more silence fell upon the room. 

Softly Tony laid the babe down on the bed. Walking 
to the window he looked out upon the noisy court below. 
“Dat’s wot I’ll do. Murphy’ll hev de kid an* I kin go.” 
“ Gee ! ” He hurriedly brushed his eyes. 

“Never hed sech er t’ing hold me like dis yere love. 
Makes me t’ink of de — sun, fer sure. Roses of love — of 
love. Whyee — sort of makes me like de Li’les’ Kid, sof’ 
an’ nice, jes ter say it — love — love.” 


[ 14 ] 



Chapter II 


“WOT IS LOVE?” 


E llen gray, or Miss Ellen, as the children called 
her, was seated by her desk in the Kindergarten 
room, busily threading needles. 

I The early morning sun slowly drifted into the 
■ schoolroom upon the circle of tiny chairs that 
were awaiting their daily occupants. 

At the sound of a footstep. Miss Ellen glanced toward 
the doorway, and there she saw, standing on the threshold, 
a boy, the oddest specimen of childhood that, even in her 
1 varied experience, she had ever beheld. 

Judging by his size, he might have been ten years or 
: so; judging by the care-worn lines on his face and the 
; sadness in his blue eyes, he might have been three times 
as old. 

! Miss Ellen rose. “ Why, good morning, my little man, I 
j am very glad to see you. Won’t you come in and sit down 
The boy silently obeyed, his eyes riveted upon Miss 



TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

Ellen’s face. If the young teacher was studying her Grange 
visitor, he, without que^ion, was ^udying her. 

“What is your name, dear?” 

Dear! He turned the word over in his mind, as one 
who has ta^ed for the fir^ time an unaccu^omed sweet 
morsel. 

“Tony,” he slowly answered. 

“And my name is Miss Ellen. Now that we are so well 
acquainted, won’t you sit down in this little chair?” 

Somewhat bewildered, Tony seated himself, his eyes 
reding on the white hand of the young teacher. Pointing 
abruptly, he said : 

“Say, dat’s like de Li’les* Kid.” 

Miss Ellen at once became intere^ed. 

“Yes? And who is the Li’les’ Kid?” 

“Me baby si^er.” The note of pride in Tony’s voice 
did not escape the que^ioner. “A baby si^er! How 
lovely! And have you any little brother?” 

“Two.” The tone was curt. 

“Why!” exclaimed Miss Ellen, keenly watching the 
expression on the boy’s sensitive face. “ A baby si^er, two 
brothers, — a mother, of course, and a father?” The ques- 
tion, indired: as it was, brought a look of such intense hatred 
and settled bitterness into Tony’s face that she was dartled. 

He had been looking out of the window, the very one 
famous for the adventure of the day before. 

[ 16 ] 


“WOT IS LOVE?” 

Suddenly he turned and faced the girl, who was watching 
him intently, and eagerly demanded : 

“ Say, I come here ter fin’ out ’bout dat yarn yer spieled 
ter de kids ye^’day — de yarn ’bout de white room, an’ de 
feller wot found de yard of roses, an’ what I wants ter 
j know is ’bout de love. See? I knows de heart an’ de 
roses, — but — love — wot is love ? ” 

Tony was landing close to Miss Ellen, his slender body, 
visible through the ragged clothes, trembling with ex- 
citement. 

Miss Ellen looked deeply into the blue eyes and read 
even more than his appeal had conveyed. In the demand 
of the boy, coming from his Carved soul, she heard the 
echo of the universal call of the world for the deeper 
knowledge of a spiritualized human love, 
i She had seen the tragedy in the expression of his face 
! which her reference to his mother had brought. But being 
I wise in her under^anding of child life, she very gently 
I asked: 

“Were you here ye^erday? I didn’t see you.” 

Tony hung his head for a moment, then sadly answered : 

“ I was n’t fitten ter come in. I swiped er look tru de 
winder. Dat wuz bad — er buttin’ inter de yarn.” 

“ Never mind, dear, I am very glad you heard the ^ory. 
Now, to your que^ion. Before I answer it, Tony, tell me 
all about your baby si^er.” 

[ 17 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM J 

Tony grinned. 

“Aw, she is jes a baby girl — but, gee! She is sof* an’i 
warm ; and when yer holds her, it jes makes yer feel likef 
her. See?” Miss Ellen nodded, her eyes brimming. 

“ She can’t do nothin’ but eat an’ yell, but she makes all 
de days like all sunny days. She is smily, too, an’ hoi’s 
onter yer, — say, I takes de hull care of her; dere’s no one 
ter do it but me, an’ yer bet she gets all dere is cornin’, fer 
sure.” 

“And the little brothers?” 

Tony shifted uneasily in his seat. 

“Aw, dey’s alius er kickin’ an’ er swipin’ de Li’les’ Kid’s 
grub. Say, dey’s like allde udder kids in de tenerment — 
dey’s jes bad all over.” 

“ Oh, I am so sorry I It mu^ make you feel very badly.” 

Tony looked up at the grave brown eyes, and shrugged 
his shoulders. 

“Aw, dey don’t keep me ’wake none. I don’ care ’bout 
dem kids. Dey’s jes soon do me dirt, an’ I buys all de 
grub fer dem — dat dey don’ swipe.” He glanced out of 
the window once more. 

Miss Ellen leaned forward, touching Tony’s grimy hands. 

“Do you like- your little si^er?” 

“ Betcher life I do,” was the prompt response. 

“ And you care for her, keep her with you all night, feed 
her, dress and bathe her and — love her?” 



Do you like, your little sister? ** ” Betcher life I do, 
Was the prompt response. 






“WOT IS LOVE?” 

I Bewildered, Tony looked up. 

I “Love her? I ain’t onter de game.” 

“Yes, dear, you are on to the game. You love the little 
si^er and have never known it. 

“ Love is something within your own heart that makes 
I you do for the baby the things you do. You mu^ never 
j say the word ‘ like,* for that is a weak word. You mu^ say 
j ‘love* ; it means so much more than ‘like.* You like a per- 
: son with your head, but you love with your heart and soul, 
j When you love, you fill the little white room I told you of 
J ye^erday, and you make the spirit glad.” 

She looked earne^ly down at the child’s face as he 
: ^ruggled to adjust the new word to his emotions. 

I “Gee!” he muttered, ‘T hed de dope an* never knowed 
i it. But say, I ain’t heerd it before.” 

Miss Ellen smiled gently. 

; “No? Well, Tony, you know it now, and you must be- 
lieve in your love. Say it over, ‘ I love the Li’les* Kid.* Do 
you see?” 

“Yep, I t’ink so. Say, ain’t it jes like hate, — dat’s 
stronger *n not-a-likin’ ? ” 

“That’s just it. Now I want you to li^en very carefully. 
I think we had better go over there in the sunlight.” She 
led the boy to the center of the room, and in the little 
chairs, in a halo of sunshine, the two sat down. 

“Tony, how does the sun feel to you?” 

[ 19 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

“Warm an’ sof* an’ nice.” 

“Yes. That is just the way love feels.” 

Tony nodded. “ Yer bet ’tis I Say, it made me feel like 
dat las’ night jes er say in’ it.” 

“You are a dear laddie.” Miss Ellen’s eyes were glow- 
ing softly as she turned to him. 

“Tony,” she asked, “have you ever heard of God?” 

Tony reflec5ted. It did not dawn upon him that the 
sacred name which fell so reverently from Miss Ellen’s 
lips could ever have had the slighted association with the 
ill-pronounced word handled so profanely in the tenement. 

“ Nope,” he answered slowly. 

Miss Ellen thought for a moment, then leaning forward, 
facing the boy, she earne^ly and carefully began : 

“Tony, dear, when you hold your baby si^er in your 
arms, care for and love her, do you feel cross toward her 
or do you feel full of love?” 

Tony’s eyes danced. “Gee! a feller couldn’t git cross 
wid ’er; why, she makes yer feel good all tru. You bet!” 

“Of course you do. You couldn’t harm her while you 
love her. And the baby, is she good and sweet?” 

The boy’s eyes grew large. “ Why, she can’t help bein’ 
good. She’s er li’le bunch of — love. Dat’s wot she is.” 

Miss Ellen smiled. How quaint was this little lad, and 
how easily did he fall into her line of thought. 

“Well then, Tony, all this beautiful love within your 

[ 20 ] 


“WOT IS LOVE? 


heart and in the baby’s, everything that is beautiful and 
good, comes from God, and is God. 

“ The sun and the rain, the flowers and the green grass, 
everything in our lovely out-of-doors, come from God, to 
show us what His love is.” 

She paused, impressed by the expression of awe on the 
boy’s face, then thoughtfully went on : 

“There is a thought-pidture of God’s home — a pidlure 
ju^ like the white room and the heart ; this home, we say, 
is above the blue sky, and there is a garden there far more 
beautiful than any in our city parks, full of roses whiter 
even than those I spoke of, and the air in that wonderful 
home-place is full of love — love which you and I can never 
dream of knowing till we go there.” Miss Ellen’s eyes 
glowed softly. “Why, Tony, if you could gather all the 
1 glorious, precious things together, thoughts full of love, 
everybody who is good, a city full of these, then you might 
have judt an idea of how wonderful God is. You see. He 
wanted us to grow like Him, so He gave us His own self — 
I His love. We are to love each other and to be kind to each 
other, because that is the way to be like God. And oh, 
Tony, God loves us far more than we can ever think of 
loving. Do you understand, dear ? ” 

He nodded vaguely. 

Miss Ellen pondered. How could she teach this boy of 
:he deeper fatherhood and of the brooding motherhood of 

[ 21 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

the Creator when even of human love he knew nothing, 
save that which he gave to the little babe. 

Drawing the boy more closely to her and taking his 
hands in hers, she said: “Tony, dear, He loves you and 
the Li’les’ Kid. He loves me and my babies here. He 
loves — your mother, too.” 

Tony looked up quickly, then turned away his head. 

“Aw, yer don’ come dat on me.” 

“But I do, Tony. He loves us all. Now, dear, my time 
is up, but you are going to ^ay awhile ? ” 

“Yep, ef I won’t be in de way.” 

“ No, dear, I want you to ^ay as long as you can. Sit 
here in this chair.” She bent down and whispered : “ Tony, 
say it over and over to yourself: ‘God is love. I love 
Him, He loves me, and I love the Li’les’ Kid.’ Will you?” 

He looked up at her mi^ily, and shyly added, “An’ 
Tony loves yer too, ef yer don’ mind.” 

Bless your heart, dear. And Miss Ellen loves you too, 
ever so much.” 

Tony sat all through the session which followed, like 
one living in a dream, a dream in which only he and Miss 
Ellen moved. 

Sitting there in the clean, sunlit room, the circle of happy 
faces about him, his own heart full of his new discovery 
and his acJtive mind already reaching out for deeper 
knowledge, Tony likened to the ^ory of a more perfed: 

[ 22 ] 


“WOT IS LOVE?” 

love, the love which forgives, no matter how deep the 
injury. 

Forcibly, yet gently, the little sermon was preached. But 
Tony’s eyes grew hard and the lines of bitterness returned 
to his face. Miss Ellen grew troubled as she noted the 
change, for this Grange, sad boy, with his longing cry, had 
taken hold of her heart, while the desire to help him be- 
came very ^rong within her. 

At recess, after the la^ wee Craggier had trotted out of 
sight, Tony rose, and, walking slowly to the teacher, said 
gravely : “ Say, ain’t sure ’bout dat feller wot yer telled of — 
God. Am er fixin’ it all in my head dis way, — sorter : ‘ We’s 
like de kids out dere,’ pointing to the yard full of frolickers, 
‘ an’ He is de same ez you.’ Ain’t dat it } ” 

There was not a trace of irreverence in the untutored 
child’s comparison, only his quaint mannerism, his evi- 
dent love for the mental pic5tures, which is ofttimes so 
difficult to in^il in the mind of the pracStical child of the 
tenement. 

Miss Ellen underwood him at once. “Yes, dear, only, 
even though I love my babies here, I can never love them 
as He does. You love your baby si^er, but He loves you 
both a thousand times more.” 

“All ter ond:?” The quedion came from a very adon- 
ished boy. 

“Why, He loves the entire city full of people, Tony. 

[ 23 ] 


I 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

Oh, little lad, love comes from Him ; there is no limit to 
God’s love ! Do you underhand ? ” 

Tony drew his hands from out his trousers’ pockets, as 
he slowly and thoughtfully answered : “ 1 t’ink I do. It ’s 
too big fer er li’le kid like me to ketch onter ter onc5t. It’ll 
take time, an’ mebbe when I tells de Li’les’ Kid ’bout it all 
an’ ’bout Him, I’ll get onter it more.” 

Miss Ellen patted his thin shoulders encouragingly. 
“Come to-morrow, Tony, and come early so that we can 
have a long talk. Don’t forget to think love and to say it. 
You see, dear, you have it in you, and all you need to do is 
to open the doors and windows wide in the little room and 
to say over and over : ‘ 1 am God’s child, and God is love.’ ” 
Back in the turbulent tenement with the babe in his 
arms, Tony repeated the whole wonderful ^ory. At its 
conclusion he paused, as slowly but convincingly there 
flashed in his mind — the love that forgives. 

He looked down at the wee brown head on his arm ; 
he looked at the dirty room. He saw with the eyes of one 
who has been awakened to the higher possibilities of life, 
only to be confronted by the deadly barrier of environment. 

With a sob of passionate bitterness, grief and despair, 
he cried: “Aw, ’t ain’t no use, Li’les’ Kid ! ’T ain’t no use! 
We can’t never be no better, ’cause — she — ain’t never 
done us no good. She — don’t even like us, nor feed us. 
Oh, Li’les’ Kid — she — ain’t — no good! An’ we mus’ love 

[24] 


“WOT IS LOVE?” 

her, ’cause Miss Ellen sed that He wants us ter love even 
such ez — an’ — an’ — baby — I can’t — I can’t.” He bowed 
his head upon the warm little body, and for the fir^ time 
in years the tears trickled down his cheeks. 


[ 25 ] 



Chapter III 

THE WHITE ROSE 

PEN up yer squinters, Li’les’ Kid, ’cause Tony 
m ^ wants yer ter li^en. Say, does yer t’ink dat 

I I dis is Tony wot’s er holdin’yer, or does yer 

M t’ink it’s de dream Tony wot he hez been er 
tellin’ of? Gee! It’s ’nough ter make yer dizzy 
de way me heart has been on de move, — ever sence las’ 
week, an’ sence Miss Ellen told me ’bout Him, an’ His boy. 
Say, Li’les’ Kid, eat yer grub an’ go ter sleep. I’ve gotter 
go an’ see Miss Ellen. Can’t ^ay dis mornin’ long, ’cause — 
’cause — she — might come back an’ fin’ yer all alone. See?” 

Tony paused, a scowl gathering on his forehead. 

The baby having finished her frugal breakfa^ began to 
fret sleepily. Tony rocked her gently to and fro on his 
knees, softly talking all the while. 

“Yep, an’ Miss Ellen, she telled me ’bout His house an* 
His boy, wot He sent ter us ter show jes how we orter 
love. Gee, an’ dey jes up an’ done Him dirt, dey did, 

[ 26 ] 


THE WHITE ROSE 

an* d’yer know, Li’les’ Kid, He loved ’em jes de same. 
Why — ee! Li’les’ Kid, ef yer ain’t ’sleep an’ me er tellin’ 
yer de greates’ yarn ever. Aw, yer don’ know it, but yer 
b’long ter Him, an’ ef Tony kin, yer’ll not grow up in dis 
tenerment where sof’, white baby girls grow up ’thout 
knowin’ ’bout de li’le white rooms an’ de roses of love.” 

The boy carried the sleeping child to the mattress and 
carefully covered her with an old shawl. 

“Aw, Li’les’ Kid,” he whispered, bending over her, the 
great longing of his soul in his blue eyes, “yer er goin’ ter 
be like Miss Ellen, does yer hear? Yer mu^, oh, yer mu^, 
an’ yer li’le white room mus’ feel only purty words ! O 
baby — Li’les’ Kid — don’t li^en ter — her — will yer? Don’ 
even look at — her; she won’t fill de white room an’ she 
don’ know ’bout Him an’ His boy. Sh — dere! Youse kin 
sleep; Tony’ll be back — very soon ” 

Softly he stole out of the room. At the end of the hall 
he paused to give a signal whi^le. Immediately Maggie, 
untidy and drooping, opened the door. 

“Say,” Tony lowered his voice, “keep yer eyes on de 
kid, will yer?” 

The girl nodded. 

“I’ll be back soon. Say, keep yer eyes peeled. See?” 

Maggie seized Tony’s arm as he turned to go. 

“Will she see me, d’yer think, the teacher yer told me 
’bout?” 


[ 27 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

The boy took mental inventory of the girl’s appearance 
and shook his head. 

“ Miss Ellen, she ain’t ^uck on dirt none, an’ yer hair 
all over yer face, but yer got er nice face, an’ Miss Ellen 
ain’t no swell wot’ 11 cut yer. Betcherlife! She’ll talk ter 
yer ’bout de inside yer white room I tolled yer of. Gee I 
It’s yer dat ’ll t’ink of de outside after she gits tru.” 

Maggie’s blue eyes grew large with childlike appre- 
hension. 

“I ain’t fit, Tony, I ain’t good.” 

“Aw, Miss Ellen, she’s good ’nough fer two of yer. 
Anyway, she’ll not t’row it up ter yer. Yer see, Maggie, 
Miss Ellen, she ’s got nex’ ter Him an’ knows His game. 
He sees de white room an’ I don’ know how, but yer gits 
clean outside by yerself, widout yer know it, seems like. 
I’ll tell Miss Ellen ; she loves everybody. So long, Maggie. 
Keep yer eyes peeled.” 

It had been a wonderful week to Tony, and so swift 
had been the shifting scenes that his brain whirled. 

The great change in his inner consciousness had created 
a greater change in his outer life, in his associations with 
the tenement people, with the boys, and with the Li’les’ 

Kid. 

Also, unconsciously, he had sought the cleansing powers 
of water and soap, and when he had presented himself 
before Miss Ellen on the second morning, his shiny face 

[28] 


THE WHITE ROSE 

redolent of Mrs. Murphy’s tub water, she did not smile; 
intend, she introduced him to the Kindergarten bathroom. 
Tony, marveling silently at the “dishes on de wall,” learned 
his fir^ lesson in the art of perfect ablution. 

The wonderful week had but one discord. At Miss 
Ellen’s earned reque^, Tony had brought the two little 
brothers to her. But they had behaved like wild animals, 
for after demoralizing the school they had ignobly fled, 
leaving poor Tony mortified and inconsolable. 

“ Never mind, dear, you can bring the Li’les’ Kid to me ; 
she will be good, 1 am sure,” Miss Ellen comforted, cheering 
the boy until the memory of the event had faded away 
into the mi^y pa^. 

Tony’s mind went through all these details as he ran to 
the school. 

Miss Ellen cheerily greeted him as he held up his clean 
face and hands for her inspecflion. 

“Clean little Tony! Come right here to me — close.” 
She drew him up to her, holding him in the shelter of her 
arm. 

“And, dear, how is the little white room?” Tony shook 
his head, his blue eyes wilfully looking up into her deep 
brown ones. 

“Aw, it ain’t bu^ed yet.” 

“No? Do you know why?” 

The boy hung his head, the red flush dully spreading 

[29] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

over his pale face and to his neck. Only too well he knew 
what Miss Ellen meant. 

“Oh, Tony, can’t you forgive? You, a little boy, who 
has been shown love, can’t you forgive some one who has 
never known about the white room ? ” 

She tried to ^udy the expression on the child’s face, 
but his head was averted. She sighed, a troubled look in 
her eyes. How to penetrate the armor of the boy’s reserve 
and sensitiveness was a problem which sorely puzzled her. 
Once he had grudgingly admitted that his father had been 
“sent up.” But any allusion to the mother was met by 
^ubborn silence. However, she was determined to break 
through this wall of reserve and compel the boy to recog- 
nize his rightful position in his relationship to his mother. 

“Tony,” she said at length, as she turned the boy around 
so that he ^ood facing her, “ you are building a fence all 
around your white room to keep the little boys — and your 
mother — out. Unless you forgive them, the windows and 
doors will never fly wide open. Hate and love cannot live 
together in the same room. One mu^ go.” 

Tony looked ^raight at her, his questioning eyes full of 
growing fear. 

“But — she — ain’t — no good,” he muttered. 

“Oh, my deare^ boy,” never say such a thing again I 
God made her, and when she was a little baby she was as 
good as your Li’les’ Kid. Oh, Tony, you are only a little 

[ 30 ] 


THE WHITE ROSE 

boy! You do not know what terrible things she has had 
in her life to make her what she is. She has not known 
of God or love. Tony, you will never say such a thing 
again, will you?” 

He shyly put his arm about the girl, seeing her brown 
eyes full of tears. 

“Aw, Miss Ellen, I won’t, but yer don* know. Jes de 
same. I’ll try. Mebbe 1*11 let her peek in tru de fence till I 
git us’d ter her. De li’le boys kin come inter de yard some.” 
Tony wondered at the choking sensations in his throat 
and even in his heart as he hazily rubbed his eyes. 

Miss Ellen hugged the boy tightly to her. He little 
knew that the tears were for him and for the sorrow which 
had ca^ its blight upon his soul. 

“Say, Miss Ellen, I can’t ^ay dis mornin*. I jes come 
’cause — oh, ’cause — it re^s er feller ter talk ter yer — de 
tired feelin’ in de white room. Say, it makes me sort o* 
feel nex’ ter Him ter talk ter yer. Miss Ellen.” 

The girl, speechless and heartful, suddenly bent down 
and kissed the boy on his pale cheek. Tony ^ood ^ill, 
the red again flooding his throat and brow, the choking 
sensation creeping back into his throat. Not ungently he 
pushed her from him, and with tumbling ^eps turned 
away. 

“Aw, cut it,” he said huskily, “I ain’t — no kid.” 

He wondered, troubled, at the turmoil within him as he 

[31] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

walked over to the window. This fir^ kiss had aroused 
in his mind the memory of another ju^ such a kiss which 
had come to him in the long ago — his dreams, as he 
called those hazy pictures of the pa^. 

“Tony.” He turned to face Miss Ellen, and saw in her 
hand a flower, a rose, a white rose. In an instant his eyes 
were alight. 

“Gee, it's de real t’ing, fer sure!” 

“Yes, my Tony, it is for you.” 

“Fer me? Fer me ter take ter de tenerment?” 

“Yes, dear, to show to all your friends, — to Maggie, 
whom you mu^ bring to me; to Mrs. Murphy — and to 
your — mother.” 

She gave the rose to Tony, placing it fir^ in a slender 
glass vase. Holding it in his hand, he gazed wonderingly 
at the exquisite whiteness of its satin petals. 

“ An’ yer sed His house hed nicer an’ whiter ones dan 
dis?” He looked up incredulously. 

“Yes, Tony.” 

“An’ love is purtier dan er rose, an’ His love purtier dan 
er yard full of roses.” He mused for a moment, then turned 
to Miss Ellen. “Say, Miss Ellen, I gotter go back. Yer 
knows how I feels ’bout dis. An’, say. Miss Ellen, 1 does 
love yer ter beat de band, an’ — say — mebbe de fence’ll 
bu^ down — some day.” 

The young teacher watched him as he trudged down 

[32] 


THE WHITE ROSE 

the ^reet. With him and even preceding him, loving 
thoughts had reached the tenement to make his day a 
bright and happy one. 

Tony ^ole into the empty room once more, his eyes 
glowing excitedly. Placing the rose on an upturned box 
where the sunlight could fall upon it, he hurried into 
Maggie’s room for the baby. 

“Say, give me der kid, an* say, Maggie, in jes ’bout ten 
minutes yer kin come an’ see wot I brung from Miss Ellen.” 

Before the girl had fully grasped Tony’s my^erious 
message, he had vanished. 

Triumphantly the boy held up the one treasure in his 
possession, so that the baby eyes might fully behold the 
wondrous rose. 

“See, Li’les’ Kid, d’yer see? Dat’s de dope — de rose 
dat Tony’s been tellin’ yer ’bout.” 

The two wee hands went out in joyful appreciation. 

“ Gee,” muttered the boy, “ wusht youse wuz clean like 
it, an’ de room, too. I never seed sech dirt before.” 

He looked about the chaotic apartment, the uncleanli- 
ness affedling his senses as it had never before. 

“ Gee, ef dat rose is ter live in dis place. I’ll hev ter git 
busy an’ clean de room, fer sure. De rose looked whiter 
in Miss Ellen’s room.” 

With Tony, adtion followed abruptly on the heel of de- 
cision. In less time than one could consider possible, he 

[ 33 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

had borrowed a broom and was wielding it awkwardly, 
yet energetically, and to some purpose. 

The volume of du^ puzzled him. “ Gee, de rose can’t 
^an’ dis, nor de kid neder.” 

He thought for a moment, then pulled out rags and 
paper from the windows, and, after hiding the babe under 
the bed-covers and placing the rose in a covered box, he 
calmly proceeded to finish his task, despite the screams of 
rage which proceeded violently from under the ragged quilt. 

“Never min’, Li’les’ Kid, youse gotter yell, ’cause dis 
room jes hez ter be clean.” 

Suddenly the door bur^ open and a neighbor’s voice 
called out through the cloud of thick du^ : 

“ Wot yer a-doin’, Tony? Don’t yer know, yer fool kid, 
dat ye’ll ketch cold ’thout no dirt?” 

Tony, never topping, yelled out good-naturedly: 

“Aw, shet up. We’re goin’ ter be clean in dis room.” 

“Yer ain’t got no sense, kid,” came from another. 

“It’s dirt wot keeps yer warm.” 

“Say,” — a third complaint — “you’ll get sick, sure.” 

The boy shrugged his thin shoulders and swept on. 
Some one coughed. 

“Say, yer darn kid, quit it. It’s makin’ me sick already.” 

“ Den go back ter yer own place an’ lemme be. Say,” — 
Tony paused — “I’ll let yer in ter see de show ef ye’ll go 
now.” 


[ 34 ] 



Silently, one hy one, they stared at the white blossom 





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.1 



THE WHITE ROSE 

After considerable discussion on the part of the audi- 
ence, some one admonished tadtfully: 

“Aw, let the kid be.” 

“Yes, ’t ain’t none of our bizness,” grudgingly acknowl- 
edged another. 

However, in less time than ten minutes every woman 
and child in the tenement knew of the clean room, and 
more than a dozen curious eyes followed Maggie to the 
door with envious expectancy. 

With a half-frightened expression, Maggie confronted 
the white rose and the excited boy, while the baby laughed 
and crowed in Tony’s arms. 

“ Miss Ellen, she give it ter me,” he whispered proudly. 

Maggie dropped down on the floor in front of the box 
while Tony held the door wide open for the impatient 
neighbors who came crowding in. 

Silently, one by one, they Ctared at the white blossom. 
They saw the changed room, the crouching girl, the boy 
and the babe, and with awe on their faces they dole away. 

The day drifted into late afternoon. When the lad rays 
of sun fell into the bare room, they reded upon the figure 
of a woman whose life lay written upon her haggard face 
and shrinking form. 

With her hands clasped before her, sobs shaking her 
bread, her eyes full of despedr, she dood before the rude 
box. 


[ 35 ] 



Chapter IV 

THE SERMON OF THE ROSE 


S EATED in her disorderly kitchen, with her ample 
feet displayed on the ^ove and her mind divided 
i between the Police Gazette and a subtile premon- 
f ition of some my^erious force at work of which 
she was ignorant, Mrs. Murphy weighed both 
curiosity and literature carefully in the scale of her inclina- 
tions and chose the former. 

Consequently, with a superb disregard for the confusion 
about her, she set forth on her tour of inve^igation. Nor 
did she have far to go. 

An epidemic of house-cleaning had broken out in the 
tenement. From every door, every window, there poured 
a du^y forerunner of the cleanliness that was to come. 

She soon learned of Tony’s clean room and of a rose 
which some wonderful, my^erious person had given him 
the day before. 

Mrs. Murphy gasped in amazement and forthwith hur- 

[ 36 ] 


THE SERMON OF THE ROSE 

ried to Tony’s room where she found the boy busily 
washing the baby. 

“Hello, Murphy, come on in an’ set down. Me an’ de 
Li’les’ Kid wuz er cornin’ ter tell yer all ’bout de rose an’ 
de show. Had n’ time ter tell yer las’ night.” 

The Irishwoman sat down heavily, and for the fir^ time 
in her voluble life was speechless. She saw that the barren 
room was spotless and that even the windows were clean. 
She watched the boy curiously as he dressed the wriggly 
bit of humanity. She ^ared at the rose, ^ill bravely holding 
its own. 

After the lapse of a few minutes, during which time she 
had furtively and repeatedly wiped her eyes, she broke out : 

“Aye, an’ ’tis the luck thet’s been give ter yez, Oi’m 
a-thinkin’, Tony, me b’y. Och, an’ the rose! ’Tis it as 
makes me think of the auld counthry. Me mither’s house 
had ’em growin’ fornin^ the shed. Aye, it’s a sad day Oi 
married the divil of a Pathrick, say Oi.” 

And as she wept, she rocked herself to and fro to the 
detriment of the old rocker. 

“An’ who did yer say wuz after a-givin’ yez the rose, 
Tony?” Mrs. Murphy leaned forward expectantly and was 
much taken aback by the direCt reply. 

“ Miss Ellen, de teacher up to de school.” The baby, 
fully dressed, was held up for critical inspection. Tony, 
humming a snatch of a Kindergarten song, smiled happily. 

[ 37 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

Mrs. Murphy pondered. 

“Aye, an* ’tis a grand Oirish name that, Ellen. D*yez 
be thinkin’ she’s Oirish, lad? No? *Tis de Oirish dat hez 
de big hearts, b’y. An’ is it flowers she do be givin’ away 
in her school, Tony?” 

“ Nope, she gives away love, an’ — 

“Don’t say nothin’ till I come, Tony,” called out Maggie, 
thru^ing her head in the doorway and anxiously scanning 
the two. “Hev yer told anything?” she asked as she 
joined them a moment later. 

“Nope.” Tony looked up and then grinned. “Gee! look, 
Murphy, ef she ain’t gone an’ got de wad off’n her block. 
Say, ain’t yer de peach now?” 

Maggie, taking the baby, blushed at the unexpecfted 
compliment. But Mrs. Murphy had not come to discuss 
hair-dressing. No, she was bent on knowing the secret of 
Tony’s good fortune, and he certainly had not, as yet, given 
any reasonable or sane explanation of the problem. 

“An”tis love she do be givin’ away, is it? Pooh! de 
divil — 

“Aw, yer don’ know ’bout Miss Ellen’s kin’ o’ love. She 
ain’t got none of yer tenerment kin’, yer bet she ain’t! 
She’s got de real dope, an’ it’s nothin’ yer ever heerd ’bout, 
dat’s a cinch.” 

“ Say, Tony,” pleaded Maggie, rising and giving the baby 
back to him, “wait; don’t tell Murphy till 1 gets ole Granny 

[38] 


THE SERMON OF THE ROSE 

Flaherty. She ’s asked ter hear yer tell ’bout the white room 
an’ — Him. I tried to tell her, but I don’t know how. Will 
yer wait?” 

“Sure, Mike!” Tony replied shyly. 

The girl flew, and in a short time reappeared, bringing 
not only old Granny Flaherty, but blind Peter Dolan; 
Jonesy, the seam^ress ; and Isaac, a deformed boy, 

Tony, somewhat abashed by his sudden notoriety, clung 
to the babe in his arms, vaguely wondering how to begin. 

Mrs. Murphy charadteri^ically broke the ice. 

“An* phwat koind of a teacher is it that’s after a-givin’ 
away roses an’ — love ? ” 

She jerked the la^ word out with scorn, her Irish nose 
skeptically elevated, her arms defiantly folded. 

Tony smiled absently. He knew the depths of Mrs. 
Murphy’s heart. 

“Aw, Miss Ellen’s all right! She’s de real t’ing; nothin* 
bogus ’bout her. She’s got real hair, too.” Grinning, he 
glanced at the transformed Maggie, who blushed furiously. 

“ On(5t, she telled ’bout er kid wot lived same ’s we, an’ 
he had er white room same’s we got. Dat’s yer heart, 
yer know — de white room is. An’ onc5t he found er yard 
of roses an’ he picked one an’ ^uck it inter his white room 
wot wuz dark an’ empty. An’, gee ! de rose — it means 
love — it bu^ed everything wide open, an’ de love lived 
dere an’ made him good. 


[ 39 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

“ Love is wot done it, yer see. When yer gits yer white 
room full of it, de real dope, den yer t’inks it, an* when yer 
t’inks it, yer jes lives it. See? Wot’s inside yer, gits out 
in wot yer does an’ says. Seems *s if yer can’t help yer- 
self none ; it jes comes.” 

Tony gazed thoughtfully at the rose. “I tells yer,” he 
went on, forgetting his gue^s, so absorbed was he in the 
vision uppermo^ in his mind, “ we all ain’t been learned 
to t’ink right ; we’re all off, but we ain’t ter blame none. 
We don’ know ’bout white rooms an’ white roses. We jes 
sass an’ cuss an’ swat de feller wot ain’t onter our game. 
Dunno how ’tis, I jes know ’tis, dat’s all.” 

Mrs. Murphy sat upright, eyeing the boy carefully. 

“An’ where do we be after a-learnin’ — of dis love, say 
Oi. ’Tis not in er tiniment Oi’ll be after a-thinkin’; it 
would n’t be no go here. ’T is the fi^s that does the job 
of settlin’. Phwat say yez, Jonesy? Ain’t it a divil of a 
yarn de kid’s been givin’ us?” 

Jonesy shook her weary head, folding her seldom idle 
hands luxuriously. “The sound of it is good ter me, 
Murphy,” she answered slowly. 

“Aye, an’ ter me, begorra, but phwat Oi’m a-thinkin’ 
is, where do yez be gittin’ hold of dis love, dis new 
kin’?” 

Tony rummaged in his ragged pockets and brought 
forth from their depths a bit of paper. 

[ 40 ] 



An* she Wrote dis, too. L-o-V-e, dat s love. God is 

love. Dat 5 wot He is, see ? ** 







THE SERMON OF THE ROSE 

** It s wrote on dis. Miss Ellen, she learned me how ter 
spell it. G-o-d, God.” 

He held up the paper so that his visitors could see. Mrs. 
Murphy crossed herself hurriedly, while Maggie leaned 
hungrily forward. “An* she wrote dis, too. L-o-v-e, dat’s 
love. God is love. Dat’s wot He is, see?” 

The silence was profound as the simple sentence sank 
deep into the eager souls of the li^eners. 

The babe began to droop sleepily, and Tony swayed to 
and fro. 

“Yep, an’ ’tis His love wot Miss Ellen tells of, an’ when 
yer gits it inter yer hearts, an’ gits it right, yer kin t’ink 
right, an’ yer loves everybody an’ people wot does yer 
dirt, an’ Dagoes an’ Chinks.” 

“Tell ’bout de boy,” eagerly whispered Maggie, touching 
Tony’s arm. 

He smiled gently. Somehow Maggie’s sad life and her 
need had found an answering chord in his own desolate 
exigence. 

“ Gee ! ” The word fell caressingly from his lips, and a 
soft light shone in his blue eyes. 

The girl prodded him once more. “Tell of the baby, an’ 
the ^ar, yer know.” Her own eyes were glowing as she 
leaned forward on the floor, her arms clasped about her 
knees, her lips apart and her slight form trembling with 
excitement. 


[ 41 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

So, holding his baby si^er in his arms, and facing the 
grange, uncouth audience, the little lad of the tenement 
led his gue^s back to the fir^ Chri^mas night, to the 
^able and to the Child of Bethlehem. 

After a brief silence Isaac sighed wilfully, “It’s very 
beautiful, but it ain’t fer us, is it, Tony?” 

Tony reflected. 

“ Ye-es; Miss Ellen, she sed, if we b’lieved an’ knowed, 
it is ourn, an’ if we love an’ gits onter His game of lovin’, 
we gits ter be jes like — ” he looked down at the sleeping 
babe cradled so close to his heart, and a smile of infinite 
tenderness came into his thin little face — “jes like de 
Li’les’ Kid,” he added softly. 

Maggie led her friends out of the room. Only Mrs. 
Murphy remained, her abnormal curiosity not yet having 
been gratified. 

She ^ared hard at the rose, and with some awe at Tony. 
Was this the boy who, only two weeks ago, had come to 
her door asking of love ? She shook her head. 

“Aye, lad, an’ the divil may fly away wid me ef it ain’t 
a quare thing how luck comes ter sum. Sure, an’ ’t is yez 
thet orter be after a-havin’ it all, Tony, me b’y, yez are thet 
foine.” 

Tony smiled thoughtfully. His belief in the possibilities 
of Luck was vague, but swiftly there arose the pic5ture of 
the girlish teacher, as she ^ood before him ye^erday, 

[ 42 ] 


THE SERMON OF THE ROSE 

the white rose in her hand, and in her eyes the reflecftion 
of the secret for which Tony so hungrily longed. 

“ An’ He sez, sez He, thot yez mu^ be after a-forgivin’ 
folks — loike yer ma?” The Irishwoman eyed Tony nar- 
rowly. 

He carried the child to the mattress, covered her with 
the old shawl, then turned to the box, gcizing down into 
the folded heart of the rose. 

“Yes.” He answered slowly and thoughtfully. Mrs. 
Murphy was bewildered, but she had always respedted 
Tony’s reserve, so, rising, she kindly asked: 

“An’ when are yez to be seein’ the teacher wid the 
darlin’ Oirish name ? ” 

Tony’s face lit up instantly. 

“ Gee ! Mos’ forgot. Me an’ de Kid here, de Li’les’ Kid, 
is er goin’ ter-day, an’ Miss Ellen, she’s goin’ ter learn me 
jes how ter keep de Kid clean. An’, Murphy” — Tony 
caught hold of his visitor’s scant skirt — “ Miss Ellen, she’s 
er goin’ ter give her some li’le dresses.” 

“ Aye, an’ ain’t Oi been a-tellin’ yez thot luck’s cornin’, 
Tony? An’ ’tis yez thot ’ll be gittin’ go swell thot’s Mur- 
phy thot yez will not be wantin’ ter see.” There was a 
note of anxiety in the hearty voice which did not escape 
the boy. 

With a gentleness before unknown to him, he stroked 
Mrs. Murphy’s rough red hand. 

[ 43 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

“Nope, Murphy. Me an’ de Li’les’ Kid’ll alius love yer; 
an’ some day yer will learn how ter love right yerself. Yer 
kin go ter Miss Ellen ; she hez it all in her, an’ His love, 
too. Miss Ellen, she’ll learn yer how ter love Pat — ef yer 
want. Say, Murphy,” Tony came up to the woman as she 
^ood on the threshold, “Yer kin say dis, ‘God is love.’ 
Gee ! jes a-t’inkin* it makes a feller’s day nicer.” 


[ 44 ] 



Chapter V 

“DE Ll’LES’ KID” 

W ITH his usual cheery “’Lo dere, Miss Ellen, 
I brung her,” Tony placed the open-eyed 
baby in the teacher’s outstretched arms. 

She held the little one closely to her while 
the tears started to her eyes as she saw the 
pitiful attempt the lad had made to care for the little one. 

“Oh, Tony, I am so glad you have brought her to me! 
Isn’t she cute and dear?” 

“Yep, an’ see her li’le ban’s. Miss Ellen; dey’s so sof’ 
an*purty — jes like yourn.” 

The baby gurgled and crowed as she pulled at Miss 
Ellen’s apron. 

“Tony, you are a very wonderful boy, to keep her so 
clean and nice.” He beamed as he followed into the warm 
bathroom. 

The next hour was one of revelation. And when the 
baby, his Li’les’ Kid, lay in Miss Ellen’s lap, spotless, and 

[ 45 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

completely transformed by the new clothes, Tony was 
speechless, moved to the verge of tears. 

In the sunny Kindergarten room, the wee girl in her 
arms. Miss Ellen turned to the silent boy who ^ood re- 
garding both of his deare^ possessions with an expression 
of sadness, too old, but too habitual, for his child-face to 
bear. 

“What is it, Tony?” she asked softly. 

“Nawthin’, only I wusht she could alius look dis way. 
She’s jes made ter be loved an’ ter be clean. Gee ! Here’s 
where I gits busy an’ looks fer a job where I kin make de 
dough.” 

Miss Ellen held out her other arm, and, drawing the boy 
to her, talked at length to him, trying to make this man- 
child forget. 

Over the desk hung a copy of the beautiful Madonna 
of the Workshop. Tony’s re^less eyes fell upon it, then 
upon the girl with the babe in her arms, and the far-away 
light in her dark eyes. 

Pointing to the picture, he whispered: “Say, yer jes 
looks like Her — an* de Li’les’ Kid like Him.” 

An hour later Tony proudly carried the newly arrayed 
infant about the tenement and to Mrs. Murphy, who criti- 
cally examined each tiny garment, speculating wildly on 
the probable co^ of the outfit. 

He returned to his own room. In his excitement he left 

[ 46 ] 



Pointing to the picture, he whispered: 

Say, yer jes looks lik^ Her — an de hides' Kid 
like Him." 



“DE LFLES’ KID 


the babe crowing and laughing on the bed. In his anxiety 
to tell Maggie of his afternoon talk, he forgot to watch the 
door. 

When he returned he saw to his horror that some one 
had entered the room, the one whom he so intensely 
dreaded and hated. She — was bending over the babe. 

Tony ^ood ^ill, vague emotions ^ruggling within him. 
The child, frightened, gave a little whimper. In^antly the 
motherhood of the boy was aroused. Springing forward, 
he snatched the infant from the bed, not heeding the sor- 
rowful glances that followed him. Gathering the tiny, 
trembling form to him, and crooning softly, Tony left the 
room. 


[ 47 ] 



Chapter VI 

A BROTHER 

T he two little boys in the early sunlight sat on a 
pile of old boxes, watching the gymna^ics of 
Danny Mulligan, who, with true epicurean joy, 
was endeavoring to lick a liberal supply of mo- 
lasses from his freckled face by means of a very 
nimble tongue. 

So engrossed were they in their envious jeering that 
they did not heed Tony, who had been calling to them. 

“ Hi, dere, yer kids ! Can’t youse hear me ? Come, git 
yer breakus ! ” 

They scampered in all ha^e to where their brother 
wearily waited. 

Tony, pale and heavy-eyed, hurried them to the bake- 
shop where, before entering, with suspicion born of experi- 
ence, he asked, “ Hed nothin’ ter eat?” 

“ Nope.” 

“ He hed an orange wot he swiped, he did.” The smaller 

[ 48 ] 



Danny Mulligan, with true epicurean joy, Was 
endeavoring to licl^ a liberal supply of molasses from his freckled 
face by means of a very nimble tongue. 


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boy grinned maliciously. The other pounced upon him, 
and with a few well-diredted and skilfully avoided blows, 

screamed angrily: “Aw, , yer darn fool kid. 

Alius a-snitchin’.” 

Tony sighed as he watched them. Slowly a new thought 
entered his head. 

“ Say, I ain’t sure but youse hed better cut out dem kin* 
o’ words. Gee! I jes b’lieve dat dey ain’t nothin’ He’d hear 
us say, nor Miss Ellen ; she ain’t ^uck on ’em. Say, yer 
kids, jes cut it, d’yer hear?” he added clinchingly, as the 
thought grew into conviction. 

The boys Glared, but this new Tony was not one whom 
they dared to disobey; so, silently they waited while he 
purchased and divided equally between the two ravenous 
youngsters a half-dozen buns. Like hungry animals they 
fell upon the speckled, shiny buns, and devoured them in 
less than a moment, — so it seemed to the hungry watcher. 

The night had been a hard one for Tony, for the room 
had had one other occupant, the one whose coming meant 
trouble, and whose Staying all night ofttimes meant a long 
and watchful vigil. On such occasions the Li’les’ Kid 
never left the boy’s arms. 

He thought of his night with increasing bitterness as he 
silently regarded his two little brothers. 

“Aw, dey’s nothin’ but kids, jes li’le boy kids. Dey ain’t 
hed no chanSt, dey ain’t — ” 

[ 49 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

A sudden longing filled him, a longing to rid himself of 
all these burdens. His responsibility for the two souls be- 
fore him weighed him down oppressively. 

“Aw, de Li’les’ Kid, she’s ’nough,” he muttered argu- 
mentatively. 

Something of the druggie within mu^ have been mani- 
fe^ on his face, for the younger boy, who had been closely 
and shrewdly eyeing him, held out a bit of his bun. 

“Say, Tony, youse kin hev dis, ef yer want.” 

Touched by the unheard-of ad: and thought, Tony 
looked down upon him. 

“ Nope, kiddo,” he mumbled brokenly, “I ain’t so hungry. 
Yer kin eat it.” 

He turned to go ; the older boy clutched his sleeve, ask- 
ing in a whisper : “ Is ” — pointing to their room — “ sleep ? ” 

“Yep. Yer kids play out. I’ll be back soon an’ den we’ll 
go to de park, mebbe. Keep shy an’ don’ yer go er swearin’ 
none.” 

With his heart full of rebellion, Tony hurried to Miss 
Ellen. The sight of his sworn foe, Mike Casey, danding 
on the curbdone, sent quivers of hate through his much 
didurbed mind. 

“Why, my blessed boy !” exclaimed Miss Ellen, as she 
saw him, “what is the matter, dear? Are you sick? No?” 
She looked at Tony sharply, keenly, then nodded briskly 
to herself. 


[ 50 ] 


A BROTHER 

“Tony, you are ju^ in time to eat lunch with me. Oh, 
yes, you mu^. And to think that we are to have each 
other s company, and are to eat the good things that are 
in my lunch-basket ! ” 

She disappeared, leaving the boy scarlet and shame-faced, 
helplessly waiting. How did she know? he wondered. 

Miss Ellen returned with not only one but three lunch- 
baskets. Obviously she had been on a foraging expedition, 
but Tony did not que^ion. 

The low tables were quickly spread. 

“ Come, Tony, you are to be my gue^ of honor. We can 
learn our lessons later.” 

Miss Ellen marveled that the boy, half Carved though he 
was, should eat so slowly and silently ; yet he did not once 
refuse whatever she placed before him. She more than sus- 
pected the long night’s vigil, for Maggie had been to see her. 

Luncheon over, and the lessons finished, Tony leaned 
toward Miss Ellen and, with sad, pleading eyes, said 
slowly: “Miss Ellen, ’t ain’t no use. De white room ain’t 
never goin’ ter bu^. Dey’s too much of — hate dere.” 

Silence for a moment, then Miss Ellen’s voice, earnest, 
decisive: “Need there be any hate, Tony?” 

He shook his head. 

“ Dere is, an’ I wants ter git away off fr’m it, an’ take de 
Li’les’Kid, an’ git a job some’eres. Does yer know ef 1 
kin git er job?” 


[ 51 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

The teacher turned away her head. She could not bear 
the look in those blue eyes. “What of your mother and 
the little boys — your brothers?” 

“Aw, dey*s — he topped, the episode of the bun re- 
curring to him. He silently rose and ^rode unevenly to 
the window. 

“Tony, have you asked God to take the hate away?” 

“ Nope,” sorrowfully. 

“Have you ever tried to think love toward the boys 
and — your mother ? ” 

“ I dunno. Miss Ellen, dey ain’t all de time hate as it 
use’ ter be, jes till — las’ night.” He paused, the weary old 
look creeping into his face. 

“I tells yer, sometimes I t’ink de kids ain’t ter blame 
none. Dey don’ know ’bout de white room. Mebbe I ’ll 
git busy an’ tell ’em.” He moved toward the girl, every 
motion of his tired little body an appeal. 

“It’s de hate — I ain’t game. Miss Ellen, an’ it ain’t jes — 
her — but it’s Mike Casey, too. Use’ ter be thet I jes wanted 
ter kill him — I hated him so. He alius lalfs at me, an’ 
ond: 1 hit him er swat wid er rock — long ’go.” He hung 
his head shamefacedly. 

“ I am very sorry, but now that you know better, you are 
going to try to forgive him. You see, he does not know 
of the white room nor of the white rose ; he has no beau- 
tiful thoughts to make him think right. He is jud another 

[52] 


A BROTHER 

weak brother for us to love and to forgive and to feel 
sorry for.” 

“Him a brother? Aw, don’ kid er feller.” 

Miss Ellen smiled in spite of herself, his scorn was so 
genuine. 

“Why, yes, Tony. God is the Father of us all, so that 
makes us all brothers. You are my dear little brother and 
I am your si^er. Isn’t that beautiful?” 

“Yep — de si^er part is, but, gee ! Mike Casey — he ’s a 
fat lob^er, dat’s wot he is!” 

Tony sat down on one of the little chairs. “Say, d’yer 
know, I wuz er waitin’ till I git big ’nough, den I wuz er 
goin’ ter lick him, an* now yer tells me I jes gotter love him 
an’ call him — brother.” 

He rose suddenly and ^ood before the teacher, slipping 
his fingers nervously into her warm, white hands, and 
with a half-despairing apathy which ^ruck her to the 
heart, he added : 

“ It ’s tough. Miss Ellen ; de li’le feller loves an’ forgives 
an* de big guy does yer dirt ; it ain’t fair, seems ter me. 
Does He want us to?” 

“That is what He did himself — forgave those who 
were cruel to Him. Tony, you want your white room full, 
don’t you? Of course; well, you have shut out your 
mother and have allowed bitter thoughts of Mike Casey 
to come into your room. It is a hard duty, but you are a 

[ 53 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

brave boy — you can forgive if you only make up your 
mind. Think a moment — what a difference it would make 
in your life ; you could teach your brothers and the Li’les’ 
Kid ever so much better, with your heart full of love.” 

“ Aw, gee ! I knows it, an’ I wants it, but it ’s tough jes 
de same. He gits de dough an’ de love — wot does I git?” 

“ A full white room.” 

Tony was silent, and when Miss Ellen brought him his 
second white rose, he answered her mutely. 

** Bring the baby to-morrow, dear, and be sure you tell 
me what you did with this rose. Maggie told me of the 
other one.” She looped and kissed his grave lips. Tony 
flushed under the scarcely accu^omed caress, and, carry- 
ing his rose, Parted for the door where he met Maggie. 
She begged for a whiff of the rose. 

“ De Kid ’s with Murphy,” she called after him. 

It was late that afternoon when Tony went into Mrs. 
Murphy’s apartments for the baby. Mrs. Murphy met him 
at the door, shaking a very du^y rug and a ^ray offspring. 

** Aye, noo. Ketch me a-hevin’ a divil ev er kid bringing 
in durrt in here, yer bet!” she yelled in her Celtic- Ameri- 
can accent. 

Tony grinned as he surveyed the wet interior, for the 
good woman in her zeal had not left a table or chair un- 
turned. The air reeked soap. The walls were a ^udy in 
panels of dripping, dirty gray. The frightened children 

[ 54 ] 


A BROTHER 

looked on from their observation point, the fire-escape. 
Never had their vigorous parent been taken with such a 
cleanly fever as this. 

Mrs. Murphy inspected Tony’s bare feet. “An’ ’tis not 
a speck of durrt as comes inter dis. An’ ef yez ain’t clean 
in yer feet, yez can’t be after a-comin’. Aye, an’ ’t is a 
drubbin’ Pat Murphy’ll be after a-gittin’ ef a sphot he 
clutters in.” 

“It’s er good way to let Pat see dat yer love him, 
Murphy. A clean room does it. It helps, yer bet.” 

Mrs. Murphy threw up her red, wet hands. “ Love and 
Pat Murphy! Niver!” She waved her hand melodra- 
matically. 

“I tells yer,” the boy encouraged as he received his 
sleeping charge and cuddled her to him, “Jes yer git er 
t’inkin’ dat yer love him. Gee! Ef I wuz tied up ter a 
t’ing wot I could n’t git loose of. I’d try er t’inkin* dat way — 
mebbe it would make him decent like.” 

Mrs. Murphy snorted. Ju^ then Maggie ran toward 
them. 

“Oh, Tony, wait! Did yer tell Murphy wot yer done 
with yer rose?” 

Tony, scarlet, shook his head. “An’ yer need n’t, Maggie.” 

“ I jes will, too. Say, Murphy, Tony give Mike Casey de 
rose Miss Ellen give him. An’ he had a note in it, too, 
an’ Mike Casey he read the note ’loud, an’ every man left 

[ 55 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

the s’loon, an’ Mike Casey he locked the door an’ went ter 
see Father Brennan. Dennis McGuire told me; he wuz 
there an’ he heard the note, an’” — here Maggie paused in 
her breathless jumble for a momentary rest. Tony hung 
back, his eyes fixed upon the Irishwoman. He wondered 
if she would approve or — 

“An’ wot did yer write on de paper?” Mrs. Murphy 
eyed the boy fiercely. 

“He wrote his verse, *God is love.’ Dat’s wot he wrote.” 
And Maggie glanced at Tony, who muttered, “Aw, cheese 
it. Yer sed ’nough.” “An’,” she went on, not heeding, “ he 
telled Mike Casey dat he wuz a brother and dat he — 

“Aw, de divil fly wid yer fer a fool, Tony, a — ” but the 
word did not come. Mrs. Murphy had ceased swearing at 
Tony or in his presence for several days, though she could 
not explain the reason for having done so. 

“I knows why yer done it, Tony, I know.” Maggie’s 
eyes were joyful. “ Miss Ellen she is tellin’ me of Him, too.” 

“Aye, an’ ’tis a pair of fools ye be. Git, yez hev kep’ 
me long ’nough from me worruk. An’ ’tis a good jail wot 
Mike Casey needs, wid Pat Murphy an’ yer ma ter keep 
him comp’ny. Roses fer the loikes of him. Pooh!” With 
a grand sweep of her scant skirts and an air of hauteur 
borrowed from the heroine of her late^ novel, Mrs. Murphy 
retreated to her dripping but cleanly abode and slammed 
the door 


[ 56 ] 



MR. DORRING’S MESSAGE 


T he next day Tony reludtantly told Miss Ellen 
of the mission of the white rose. He wondered 
not a little at her sudden rocking of the baby 
and her walking to the desk, where she ^ood 
for some time. He wondered ^ill more at the 
verse she repeated softly to herself, “And a little child — ** 
Tony did not catch the re^. 

When she came back to him she kissed him again and 
again, much to his discomfiture. 

“ Dear little boy ! I am so proud of my brother.” 

“ Gee ! Ain’t done nothin’,” he remarked happily, though 
somewhat bewildered. 

“How about the white room now, Tony?” she asked, 
tremulously smiling. 

The boy clasped the wee white fingers of the babe in 
his brown hands. 

“ Dunno, but I t’ink de fenc ’ll bu^ some day, mebbe. 

[ 57 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

Talked ter de kids some. Say, Miss Ellen, ain’t it great de 
warm feelin’ yer hez wen yer do somepin like wot He 
done ! ** 

“Hello, Ellen! Well, well! Tony and the Li’les’ Kid! 
How do you do, sir?” 

Tony turned to look up at a tall, young man who had 
slipped in upon them unawares. 

Over his face, as he looked down at the girl with the 
babe in her arms, crept an expression of reverence, which 
caused Tony unconsciously to glance toward the angels’ 
faces about the Madonna in the portrait hanging on the wall. 

“Well, Tony — ” Mr. Dorring held out his hand. Tony 
gave him his own slender one, wondering at the firm clasp. 
An expression of admiration crept into his face in spite of 
his momentary doubts as to the rights of this imperturbable 
Granger who claimed his beloved teacher so possessively. 

“ I have heard of your fine work, Tony. Y ou are a brick ! ” 

Tony grinned as he glanced up at the girl. “Aw, it’s 
her. 1 ain’t done nothin’. It’s jes Miss Ellen.” 

“I have not the slighted doubt that it is Miss Ellen. 
She works wonders everywhere. But you — why, you are 
going to remake the tenement, I hear, — run a sort of op- 
position to our settlement work.” 

Tony’s eyes re^ed upon the babe. “ Nope,” he answered 
slowly. “ I wants ter git out’n de tenerment an’ give her a 
chan^. She’s goin’ ter grow up an’ be like Miss Ellen.” 

[58] 



The teacher's face was wet with tears as she placed 

the baby in Tony's arms. 
















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MR. DORKING’S MESSAGE 

“Very good. But let me see — you have brothers and — 
a mother?” 

Tony sharply looked up at him, but seeing only grave 
and kindly intere^ in Mr. Dorring’s eyes, he shook his 
head as he turned que^ioningly to Miss Ellen. 

“Well, my boy, we can’t all do what we should like to. 
You have your mother and the boys to look after. The 
Li’les* Kid here can’t have any schooling for several years. 
You are such a man that you wouldn’t think of leaving a 
woman alone in the world.” 

Mr. Dorring lowered his voice, and his expression be- 
came as gentle as that of the girl beside him, as he added 
earne^ly: 

“ Whatever she is, or has been, she is a woman, and 
your mother. Some day a danger may come to her ; then 
you will realize what a mother means. Take care of her, 
Tony, and of the kids. Isn’t that about it, Ellen?” 

The teacher’s face was wet with tears as she placed the 
baby in Tony’s arms. Holding him closely to her, she 
whispered : 

“ My little brother ! God bless you — good-by.” 

The merry-eyed gentleman escorted him to the door, 
which he held wide open. 

“ Good-by, my boy,” he said heartily ; “ it’s a tough world, 
but love wins out in the long run.” He looked back at the 
girl landing ju^ behind him. 

[ 59 ] 



Chapter VIII 

THE FIRE 


“ Rock-a-bye, Baby, 

On the tree-top. 

When the wind blows 
The cradle will rock.** 

T he low voice sang on in spite of the weariness 
in the tones. On the bed a woman turned 
heavily, raising herself on her elbow to ^are in 
agony of spirit at the singer, then threw herself 
back again^ the wall in feverish abandon. 

For three days she had lain there, fever-^ricken and, 
what was more, conscience-^ricken — probed to the quick 
by the ruthless hand of her pa^. 

Gently, but in silence, Tony waited upon her. In his 
reserve, his unvoiced aversion, she felt the ^ing of rebuke. 
The three days had been full of mental awakening. 

The song — where had he learned it? 

Very dimly at fir^, then more Wrongly and clearly, came 

[ 60 ] 


THE FIRE 

the memories of her childhood, girlhood, and the sweet 
! bliss of fir^ motherhood. Under the rose arbor in her 
I country home she sang the same song to her doll; later 
to her fir^-born — Tony. 

“ Oh, rock-a-bye, hush-a-bye, 

Brother is near” — 

. Tony had paraphrased to suit the situation. The woman 
I groaned ; the tears trickled through her fingers. 

She dragged herself despairingly through the mire of 
‘ years that followed. 

On the mattress lay the little boys. The fever had taken 
; hold of their ill-nourished little bodies, and they tossed to 
and fro. 

Ij Tony rose, the baby in his arms, covered them with the 
dirty blanket and soothed them softly until they slept once 
I more. 

I “ Poor irie kids, dey ’s nothin’ but babies !” 

At the side of the bed he paused. The sleeper was 
: breathing heavily. Then turning, Tony softly opened the 
door and, gently carrying his precious burden, hurried to 
the security and shelter of the ash-barrel. 

Raising the baby’s face to his, he kissed her blue lips. 

“ Say, does yer know yer got a name, Li’les’ Kid ? Ellen ’s 
wot yer go by now. After Miss Ellen. Ain’t yer de swell, 
do? Gee! It’s up ter youse ter git on ter her game of 
I livin’, Li’les’ Kid. Youse kin grow like her an’ hev a li’le 
} [ 61 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

white room wot ain’t never even hed a curtain, it’s so full 
o’ sun. You betcherlife, If le Ellen!” He smiled quaintly 
to himself. “Aw, ain’t it de talk, de white rose ! An’ jes 
ter t’ink how full everyt’ing is sence we knowed it. Ain’t 
sure but dat de fence has bu^ed some. Mebbe — He’ll 
sort o’ ketch onter us, me an’ you, wot is tryin’ ter reach up 
ter Him. Yer is. Mebbe Tony ’II git dere soon as his white 
room is — gee! Dere’s smoke over in de tenerment. Lfles’ 
Kid, looks ter me ter be on our side, too.” He rose quickly, 
and, Pepping out, saw a thin blue line writhing snake-like 
through the walls above the room where lay his sick little 
brothers and — mother. 

In^antly an alarm was sent out. From afar he heard 
the clang of the fire-engine. A moment later it dashed by 
him into the court beyond. 

Tony ^ood ^ill, rooted to the spot, his eyes riveted upon 
the window of his room. He held the babe tightly to his 
heart. 

“Aw, — dey ain’t — nothin’ — ter me,” he muttered dog- 
gedly as he ^ared at the smoke that curled in and out of 
the windows. A hissing sound, and a flame leaped up- 
ward, downward, lapping fiendishly at the room below. 

Still the boy ^ood, not heeding the people who were 
thronging through the alleyway to the court. He could 
hear the screams of women and children. 

“Dey is sick, an’ de kids is li’le an’ dey’s — my brothers — ” 

[ 62 ] 



Gently he dropped the haby into the barrel and was gone 





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THE FIRE 

“She is your mother. Some day a danger may come 
to her, then you will realize what a mother is.” The words 
came back as di^incftly as if they had ju^ been uttered in 
his ears. His head whirled ; a thousand emotions shook him. 

“She is sick, Li’les’ Kid — oh, I mus* go. She is sick, an* 
I she’s your mother, an’ oh, baby, she ’s my mother ! O God ! ” 

“ Say, Li’les’ Kid, my baby Ellen, ^ay here in de barr’l 
till Tony gits back; don’ cry. De fire’s burnin’, and dey is 
in it, an’ Tony mus’ go.” Gently he dropped the baby into 
the barrel and was gone. 

“My mother!” With this battle-cry, he pushed his way 
through the crowd. He tumbled over a confusion of dogs 
and children ; fell over the hose ; he dashed this way and 
that, until he reached the wet pavement. 

“Hold on there 1 ” yelled a policeman, as the boy scram- 
bled to his feet. A cinder fell on his hand; he did not 
heed the burn. 

A fireman grabbed him by the arm. He evaded the 
out^retched hand, and before the eyes of all vanished 
through the doorway. 

“It’s Tony!” wailed a girl’s voice, and the crowd took 
up the cry, “Tony!” Then a hush fell upon them as they 
anxiously waited. 

Far up on the fir^ landing they saw him, through the 
smoke and flames, a child in each arm. Cheer after cheer 
went up, to die away as he disappeared once more. 

[ 63 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

The fireman, who had taken the little boys from Tony, 
descended the ladder, his burdens lying limply in his 
^rong arms. His coat was burned, the clothes of the chil- 
dren were smoking. 

“Get the boy and the mother!” he cried. 

Two firemen sprang forward, one up the swaying ladder, 
while the other fought his way through the entrance. 

In the meanwhile Tony had reached the room. His 
mother, in her endeavors to save herself, had fainted, the 
la^ words of Tony ringing in her ears: 

“ ril come back an’ git yer, mother.” Mother I He had 
never called her that before. 

From every corner the hungry flames ran out their fiery 
tongues as the boy daggered out into the hall, half drag- 
ging, half carrying the heavy form. 

“Mother, mother,” he pleaded fearfully, “it’s yer Tony, 
mother — ” 

He fell, blinded with the smoke and a sudden pain in 
his arm. Once he topped, crushing the fire from his 
smoking jacket, then hurried on. His ^rength was almo^ 
gone as he floundered down the tottering stairway, into a 
sea of smoke and fire. But even in the horror the moment 
brought, he felt the uplift of his soul. His white room had 
“busted open.” 

“ Say, God, up dere in yer white house, give a li’le feller 
a lift, will yer? It’s Tony — ” He stumbled once more as 

[ 64 ] 


THE FIRE 

with a superhuman effort he gathered his mother more 
tightly to him. 

“ I knows I ain’t good, God, an’ I hed ter swipe de bread 
’cause we — wuz hungry. Say, me white room hez bu^ed — 
is full — won’t yer — help — me — God?” 

The burden almo^ fell from his weak arms, still the 
child ^ruggled on. 

“It’s my mother, wot’s sick — 

The floor seemed to sink beneath him. 

“O God, — she ain’t hed no chan^, does yer hear — it’s 
T ony — an’ — his — mother — God-o’-love — sen* — ” 


[ 65 ] 



Chapter IX 

THE FULL WHITE ROOM 


I T WAS late that afternoon when Tony opened his 
eyes. He looked about him dcizedly. A white room, 
pretty pink and blue roses on the wall, dainty white 
curtains, shiny silver things on a queer-looking table, 
over which hung a glass. He opened his eyes very 
wide, indeed. 

“ Gee ! Ef I ain’t in His house ! ” he said aloud. 

In^antly a pair of brown eyes looked into his blue ones. 
Tony smiled feebly. Miss Ellen almo^ sobbed in her 
joy. 

“Oh, Tony, little brother, 1 am so glad, so glad — I was 
so afraid.” She seemed to be talking to herself, Tony 
thought, as he clung to her hands. He was puzzled at the 
queer sensations that were making themselves manife^ 
in his body. His bandaged head — where was his other 
arm? He looked up at the girl above him. 

“ Wot’s de matter wid me? An* why are you cryin’?” 

[ 66 ] 


THE FULL WHITE ROOM 

“ Dear Tony, Miss Ellen is so happy. She was so afraid 
that you were going from her.” 

“To His house?” 

She nodded. 

“Well, I dunno; I’d like ter go dere. I’ve been all tired 
out, an’ ef I would n’t git lonely, I ’d jes ’s lief go.” His voice 
trailed off to a whisper. The girl watched him silently. 
Suddenly he looked up, a half-frightened expression on 
his face. 

“ De fire — I ’member now. Gee ! ” 

He seized her arm — “Where’s de Li’les’ Kid?” 

“There, dear, she is all right — there. She is in the next 
room. I found her in the ash-barrel and carried her away 
with me.” 

The door softly opened and the cheery man with the 
big voice peered at him. 

“Ho, ho, my young man! Awake? Well, you have cer- 
tainly covered yourself with glory and bandages. Tony, I 
am proud of you.” 

The child looked up at Miss Ellen, a smile lighting his 
white face. 

“Miss Ellen, it’s bu^ed open, wide open, de white 
room; an’ — me mother come right in.” 

Miss Ellen bowed her head. Mr. Dorring turned away. 
Silence fell upon the trio. Tony quietly asked, “Where is 
she, my mother, an’ de li’le boys ? ” 

[ 67 ] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

“They are here.*’ 

“In dis house?” 

“Yes, dear.” Miss Ellen lovingly patted his free hand. 

“ Gee ! Yer house mus’ be ez big ez yer heart, Miss Ellen.” 

“You bet!” The man’s voice forcibly conveyed his sen- 
timents. “And there’s room for me there, too. What do 
you think of that?” 

Tony smiled shrewdly. 

“Aw, yer her feller.” 

They laughed. Miss Ellen looped over and kissed him. 
Mr. Dorring rose. 

“Well, don’t let him talk too much, Ellen. I’ll be back 
in a few minutes.” 

“Miss Ellen?” 

“Yes, my boy.” 

“I ain’t seen de Li’les* Kid fer so — long. Kin I hev 
her?” There was no residing the pleading tones. A mo- 
ment later the wee sleeper’s head re^ed in its accu^omed 
place. Tony beamed happily. 

“ She ’s got er name now. She ’s Ellen,— does yer care ? ” 

“No, indeed, i am proud, little brother.” 

He smiled joyously. How beautiful was the world of 
love! 

“ I guess I don’t want ter go ter His house yet. I wants 
ter take care of de boys, de Li’les’ Kid — an’ me mother.” 
He lovingly caressed the word. 

[ 68 ] 



In her outstretched hand she held — a white rose 








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THE FULL WHITE ROOM 

Miss Ellen leaned over him. “Tony, how would you 
and little Ellen like to live with me — Mr. Dorring and me, — 
always, and be our little brother and si^er?” 

** Ter be yer own fer keeps?” he que^ioned wonderingly. 

“Yes, for keeps.” 

He looked down at the little head and sighed. 

“ It *ud be jes de t’ing fer her, but dere ’s me mother an’ 
de kids. Nope. 1 can’t let ’em go, now.” He turned his 
head away. 

“Dear little boy! Miss Ellen did not mean that. Being 
my boy and living with me doesn’t mean that your duty to 
your mother is lo^. No, indeed, but we won’t talk of it 
ju^ yet. You are going to get well fir^. Here is Mr. Dor- 
ring. Stephen, I have told him. Will you explain all we 
mean to do?” 

“All right, dear. You mu^ go down-^airs, for some 
friends of Tony’s are here asking for you.” 

He escorted the young teacher to the door, where he drew 
her to him. When he turned, he met Tony’s ^eady gaze. 

“You don’t think you are the only one who has a white 
rose, do you?” 

Tony reached out his one hand under^andingly. 

Down-^airs, Miss Ellen faced a Grange assortment of 
visitors — Tony’s friends from the tenement. 

There was Mrs. Murphy, with an alarming bit of millinery 
upon her head ; Granny Flaherty, with a burnt shawl over 

[69] 


TONY’S WHITE ROOM 

her gray hair ; Mrs. Mulligan, and blind Peter Dolan ; a fat 
man, and a dozen others whom Miss Ellen did not recognize. 

Maggie sprang forward and clutched the teacher’s arm. 
From her wild eyes looked the que^ion which no one 
dared to voice. 

“Tony will live,” Miss Ellen said simply. 

“Is the — blessed — darlint — h-hurt?” whispered Mrs. 
Murphy. 

“Yes, but there is nothing to worry about. He will live 
to finish the work that has been given him to do.” 

She talked to them for several moments, — a cheering 
word here, a loving smile there, till the anxious people be- 
came comforted. 

As they filed out of the room, the fat man slipped a 
parcel tied up in florin’s tissue-paper into Miss Ellen’s 
hand. “Ast Maggie,” he said in a husky whisper. Miss 
Ellen looked puzzled. 

“It’s Mike Casey,” explained Maggie. He’s found out 
’bout his white room — yer know.” 

Miss Ellen opened the package ; tears Parted to her eyes. 

“Maggie, — you thank them — for Tony and me.” 

Up^airs in his white bed Tony waited, the baby ^ill in 
his arms. His eyes shone with a far-away glow ; his heart 
was full of light. 

The door opened — Miss Ellen came into the room. In 
her out^retched hand she held — a white rose. 

[ 70 ] 




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HERE ENDS "TONY’S WHITE ROOM" HOW 
THE WHITE ROSE OF LOVE BLOOMED & 
FLOURISHED IN THE ROOM OF A BOY’S 
HEART -WRITTEN OF BY WINIFRED RICH 
ILLUSTRATIONS BY ELIZABETH FERREA 
PUBLISHED BY PAUL ELDER & COMPANY 
AND PRINTED BY THEIR TOMOYE PRESS 
UNDER THE DIRECTION OF JOHN HENRY ' 
NASH • IN THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO 
JULY • NINETEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN 


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